Larry sat bolt upright on the edge of his seat, his spine as rigid as a fossil. His young, stubby fingers gripped the sticky seat in front of him until their blood- drained whiteness threatened to cramp.

Pete glanced at him and smirked. "What a nerd," he thought and stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He stole another look at Larry and rolled his eyes. Yawning, he fingered the cheap plastic fangs the blonde ticket taker had given them as a gimmick to promote sales to this stupid movie.

Larry's chest swelled and held the sharp intake of breath. Dracula's distorted image flickered off the thick lenses of his crooked wire-framed glasses. Synchronized with Jane's retreating, Larry's staccato heart beat threatened to rupture through his Umbro jacket. Dracula glared at Mary, hissed, and forced his mouth wider than death, exposing his yellowed fangs. Larry imagined the fetid smell rushing from the mouth that held countless necks sucked dead by the vampire to sustain his unholy life beyond death. Slowly, the king of the undead stalked toward Mary who had backed into the dungeon wall. Unconsciously, Larry pushed away from the screen but held onto the seat in front of him.

Pete nudged David, pointed to Larry, and mouthed, "Watch this." Just as Dracula was about to sink his fangs into Mary's pale flesh, Pete leaned back in his seat and, grabbing the plastic fangs from his pocket and slipping them into his mouth, inched toward Larry and bit down on his neck.

Larry's scream drowned out Mary's, and he lashed out at his attacker with super-charged, adrenaline strength and caught Pete dead on the nose which bled instantly. Pete grabbed his nose and began screaming as well. Larry saw the blood dripping from Pete's face and fangs and jacked him again.

David fell on the floor and laughed as hard as a hyena on helium until he was crushed by Pete's full, unconscious one-hundred twenty-five pounds. As he started to lift him to get up, Larry jumped on Pete, and the unexpected addition caught David and his bent ankle in an awkward angle, spraining it immediately.

The projector clicked off, the house lights burst on, and five ushers charged the commotion erupting from the back row of the theater. David grabbed his ankle and howled like a kicked jackal. Pete, starting to come to, cradled his gushing face and moaned. Larry shook his bruised fist and checked his neck for fang marks. And the nearest usher wrapped Larry in a half nelson.